R | When We're Wounded Together
Who bet on February 19, 2010, as the day I succumb to Wincest?
Title: When We're Wounded Together
Pairing: always!girl!Sam/Dean
Words: 1,560
Rating/Warning: R/Wincest
Summary: Sam wants to leave.
Notes: I was trying to write my femmeslash always!girl!Sam/Jess. I wrote Wincest instead. This icon is too fucking appropriate today. Title from Jason Mraz's "Beautiful Mess."
Sam fights John tooth and nail to get out of the life. To start her own and have a chance at normal. He tells her that no one can protect her like he and Dean can, that she won’t last, stop being so foolish.
She looks to Dean and he stares back but stays quiet. He looks between her and John and chooses this fight to sit on the fence. Sam rolls her eyes and shoots out, “If Dean asked, you’d let him go.”
“It’s not about Dean. This is about you.”
With a roll of her eyes, she’s out of the room and escapes to the backseat of the Impala.
*
In the dark of the motel room, tucked into bed, and staring at the ceiling, Sam mumbles, “What? Because I’m a girl, I can’t protect myself.”
“Not like Dad and I can,” Dean returns in a low voice.
She turns to look at him, but he’s not looking back. He’s on his stomach, face turned away with the pillow tucked under his arms. He’s right there, just as he always is, the one good thing in this life.
As much as she wants to be on her own, she doesn’t want to live a life without Dean there, but he wouldn’t want to hear that, so she keeps it to herself.
Sam looks away and sighs. “It’s not like everything’ll follow me.”
“Dumb head like yours will step right up to anything.”
“Wow, thanks for the confidence.”
“Anytime.” Silent minutes pass until Dean asks, “Why you wanna leave so bad anyway?”
“Why you wanna stay so bad?”
He doesn’t answer for some time, but he’s quiet when he does. “Can’t take care of yourself now. How ya gonna do it there?”
“Shut up, Dean,” she snaps back and rolls away.
She can’t sleep, though she doesn’t mind. Because then she can hear Dean rise, and she can feel the dip in the bed when he slides in behind her with a protective arm at her waist. She doesn’t smile but she relaxes enough to rest.
*
A week later, she’s ranting to Dean about wanting to go away, to no longer be in this life. John hears her and appears in the doorway, issuing a dare with his eyes.
She meets it by challenging, “You really think this is a way to live? Motel to motel? Scrambling for food?”
John steps closer, eyes angry and mouth curled tight. “You think it’s so easy? Think you could do it on your own and survive in this world? We do this for a reason.”
The way his voice loses its edge at the end hits her in the gut, and she backs down, thinking of her mother. Thinking of how their life is based on everything John’s done to avenge and protect. She lets it go.
*
“Thanks for that,” Sam grumbles, tossing her bag off the bed and yanking the blankets away.
“What d’ya want me to do?”
“Could’ve helped me out there.”
Dean sighs and tosses his own things off his bed. “Sammy, you’re gonna do whatever you want.”
“Just don’t … Don’t Sammy me right now. Alright?”
He goes on like she hasn’t said a word. “Always been your thing. Stubborn ass that you are.”
Sam looks to him and keeps his gaze. Says calmly, “I’m leaving.”
He turns away. “I know.”
“It go for you, too? I’m out the door and I’m gone for good.”
It’s a long moment before Dean responds, but he still won’t look at her. “No.”
She watches him, how his back goes rigid and his hands keep grabbing things. She knows it’s so he’s busy and that neither of them will see how he’s bound to shudder if he let himself be. “Dean.” When he won’t reply and is preoccupied with his bag, she defends her decision. “I want to have a real life, ya know?”
He snorts. “This is about as real it gets.”
“You want to stay out here? Following all of Dad’s orders? Running across the whole damned world?”
Dean throws a shirt to the bed. “I don’t follow all of Dad’s orders.”
She wants to laugh; instead there’s a gnarled sigh. “That’s all you ever do, Dean.”
He roars, “It ain’t about Dad! Alright? This is all we got and you wanna leave? Fine. Just do it without pissing me off more than need be.”
“Great. You’re gonna push me away, too. Thanks a lot, Dean.”
Dean throws an arm in the air. “I’m not the one who’s running out on my family!”
“I’m not,” she trails off with a huffy sigh. “I’m not running on anyone. You’re the ones who’re telling me to go and be gone.”
He jabs a finger into his chest. “I ain’t telling you anything. You’re the one that wants to leave.”
“Don’t you want to do something better with your life? Aren’t you tired of living by Dad’s rules?”
They watch each other and she catches how Dean’s face isn’t hard anymore but he’s still keeping his distance in the conversation, still has a cold look in his eyes.
“Dean.”
“You’re not just leaving Dad, Sam.”
She swipes a hand through her hair, pushing it off her ear with a quiet sigh. She knows but still walks out.
*
When she lets herself return to the room, it’s too dark to see much but she can make out Dean’s shape, knows it by heart.
She slips under the covers and in close without touching him. Inches separate them until Dean reaches out with a hand to her back and pulling. She tucks herself into his body and breathes deep, smells every bit of him and sinks into the comfort.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
His only response is to kiss her, soft and slow like it hasn’t been in a while.
*
Two days later, they help John track a spirit through an abandoned farmhouse. Sam tries in earnest to end the thing but is tossed hard into the creaky walls. She’s slow to get up and barely recognizes that Dean is particularly nasty in bantering with the spirit. Doesn’t catch on to the fact that he’s silent to the car and it’s John that’s leading her.
When they’re at a bar and Dean hits on a tall brunette with a lanky gait, Sam turns away and orders them another round, gently smiling when the waitress again fails to card her.
Dean leaves without a word, girl on his arm and a lazy sway in his step; Sam pays the check and goes back to the hotel. She ignores every possible reaction and falls into bed.
*
Sam’s jumpy with the letter in her hands but doesn’t know how to share the joy. John comes into the room and his eye won’t leave the paper. She lifts it a few inches and gives an awkward smile. “I got in.”
“I see that.”
“I’m gonna … I’d like to go.”
He grunts and turns, a hand to his mouth and mumbling, “Dean’s grabbing dinner. He’ll be here soon.”
*
John doesn’t say a thing until Sam forces the conversation another week later. Dean tries to step in. John yells at him to stay out of it while Sam begs him to defend her.
It’s ugly and loud and they both throw things at walls and scream words they don’t mean.
But Sam thinks he’s real when he says You walk out that door, don't you ever come back.
*
They continue on but Sam doesn’t talk to John beyond tense, one word answers, and he doesn’t ask why. She doesn’t even tell him when she’s leaving. Dean knows, and he stops hitting on girls in bars, no matter what they look like. He doesn’t sleep with her either, just stays in his bed and barely mumbles goodnight when they fall asleep.
*
The day she’s set to leave, she wakes to Dean’s careful gaze just inches from her face. She winces with a short stretch and looks for the clock.
“You really gonna do this?”
She glances for a moment then away, unable to face the depth in his eyes. “I’m not leaving forever.”
“Four years is a long time.”
A small shake of her head and she’s trying to turn away from him. “I’ll be fine.”
He hmms and keeps watching her.
“I’m more worried about you and how you’ll survive without someone telling you to stop eating so much red meat.”
His voice is tight and stern as he ignores her line. “You call the minute there’s trouble, right?”
She snorts. “You gonna come save me, Dean?”
“Sam.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“You never know.”
Another shake of her head. “God, you and Dad.”
They share a long look.
It’s the first time she can truly admit to herself that she’s just as scared about leaving; even if she knows it’s for the best. There’s the unknown of being away from Dean and in a whole different world. “You’ll come save me, right?”
He doesn’t say more than “Sam,” but she knows every tone of his voice.
She rolls into him, arms tight around his waist as he holds her, smoothing hands over her back.
His mouth is at her ear when he soothes, “Always got your back.”
Title: When We're Wounded Together
Pairing: always!girl!Sam/Dean
Words: 1,560
Rating/Warning: R/Wincest
Summary: Sam wants to leave.
Notes: I was trying to write my femmeslash always!girl!Sam/Jess. I wrote Wincest instead. This icon is too fucking appropriate today. Title from Jason Mraz's "Beautiful Mess."
Sam fights John tooth and nail to get out of the life. To start her own and have a chance at normal. He tells her that no one can protect her like he and Dean can, that she won’t last, stop being so foolish.
She looks to Dean and he stares back but stays quiet. He looks between her and John and chooses this fight to sit on the fence. Sam rolls her eyes and shoots out, “If Dean asked, you’d let him go.”
“It’s not about Dean. This is about you.”
With a roll of her eyes, she’s out of the room and escapes to the backseat of the Impala.
*
In the dark of the motel room, tucked into bed, and staring at the ceiling, Sam mumbles, “What? Because I’m a girl, I can’t protect myself.”
“Not like Dad and I can,” Dean returns in a low voice.
She turns to look at him, but he’s not looking back. He’s on his stomach, face turned away with the pillow tucked under his arms. He’s right there, just as he always is, the one good thing in this life.
As much as she wants to be on her own, she doesn’t want to live a life without Dean there, but he wouldn’t want to hear that, so she keeps it to herself.
Sam looks away and sighs. “It’s not like everything’ll follow me.”
“Dumb head like yours will step right up to anything.”
“Wow, thanks for the confidence.”
“Anytime.” Silent minutes pass until Dean asks, “Why you wanna leave so bad anyway?”
“Why you wanna stay so bad?”
He doesn’t answer for some time, but he’s quiet when he does. “Can’t take care of yourself now. How ya gonna do it there?”
“Shut up, Dean,” she snaps back and rolls away.
She can’t sleep, though she doesn’t mind. Because then she can hear Dean rise, and she can feel the dip in the bed when he slides in behind her with a protective arm at her waist. She doesn’t smile but she relaxes enough to rest.
*
A week later, she’s ranting to Dean about wanting to go away, to no longer be in this life. John hears her and appears in the doorway, issuing a dare with his eyes.
She meets it by challenging, “You really think this is a way to live? Motel to motel? Scrambling for food?”
John steps closer, eyes angry and mouth curled tight. “You think it’s so easy? Think you could do it on your own and survive in this world? We do this for a reason.”
The way his voice loses its edge at the end hits her in the gut, and she backs down, thinking of her mother. Thinking of how their life is based on everything John’s done to avenge and protect. She lets it go.
*
“Thanks for that,” Sam grumbles, tossing her bag off the bed and yanking the blankets away.
“What d’ya want me to do?”
“Could’ve helped me out there.”
Dean sighs and tosses his own things off his bed. “Sammy, you’re gonna do whatever you want.”
“Just don’t … Don’t Sammy me right now. Alright?”
He goes on like she hasn’t said a word. “Always been your thing. Stubborn ass that you are.”
Sam looks to him and keeps his gaze. Says calmly, “I’m leaving.”
He turns away. “I know.”
“It go for you, too? I’m out the door and I’m gone for good.”
It’s a long moment before Dean responds, but he still won’t look at her. “No.”
She watches him, how his back goes rigid and his hands keep grabbing things. She knows it’s so he’s busy and that neither of them will see how he’s bound to shudder if he let himself be. “Dean.” When he won’t reply and is preoccupied with his bag, she defends her decision. “I want to have a real life, ya know?”
He snorts. “This is about as real it gets.”
“You want to stay out here? Following all of Dad’s orders? Running across the whole damned world?”
Dean throws a shirt to the bed. “I don’t follow all of Dad’s orders.”
She wants to laugh; instead there’s a gnarled sigh. “That’s all you ever do, Dean.”
He roars, “It ain’t about Dad! Alright? This is all we got and you wanna leave? Fine. Just do it without pissing me off more than need be.”
“Great. You’re gonna push me away, too. Thanks a lot, Dean.”
Dean throws an arm in the air. “I’m not the one who’s running out on my family!”
“I’m not,” she trails off with a huffy sigh. “I’m not running on anyone. You’re the ones who’re telling me to go and be gone.”
He jabs a finger into his chest. “I ain’t telling you anything. You’re the one that wants to leave.”
“Don’t you want to do something better with your life? Aren’t you tired of living by Dad’s rules?”
They watch each other and she catches how Dean’s face isn’t hard anymore but he’s still keeping his distance in the conversation, still has a cold look in his eyes.
“Dean.”
“You’re not just leaving Dad, Sam.”
She swipes a hand through her hair, pushing it off her ear with a quiet sigh. She knows but still walks out.
*
When she lets herself return to the room, it’s too dark to see much but she can make out Dean’s shape, knows it by heart.
She slips under the covers and in close without touching him. Inches separate them until Dean reaches out with a hand to her back and pulling. She tucks herself into his body and breathes deep, smells every bit of him and sinks into the comfort.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
His only response is to kiss her, soft and slow like it hasn’t been in a while.
*
Two days later, they help John track a spirit through an abandoned farmhouse. Sam tries in earnest to end the thing but is tossed hard into the creaky walls. She’s slow to get up and barely recognizes that Dean is particularly nasty in bantering with the spirit. Doesn’t catch on to the fact that he’s silent to the car and it’s John that’s leading her.
When they’re at a bar and Dean hits on a tall brunette with a lanky gait, Sam turns away and orders them another round, gently smiling when the waitress again fails to card her.
Dean leaves without a word, girl on his arm and a lazy sway in his step; Sam pays the check and goes back to the hotel. She ignores every possible reaction and falls into bed.
*
Sam’s jumpy with the letter in her hands but doesn’t know how to share the joy. John comes into the room and his eye won’t leave the paper. She lifts it a few inches and gives an awkward smile. “I got in.”
“I see that.”
“I’m gonna … I’d like to go.”
He grunts and turns, a hand to his mouth and mumbling, “Dean’s grabbing dinner. He’ll be here soon.”
*
John doesn’t say a thing until Sam forces the conversation another week later. Dean tries to step in. John yells at him to stay out of it while Sam begs him to defend her.
It’s ugly and loud and they both throw things at walls and scream words they don’t mean.
But Sam thinks he’s real when he says You walk out that door, don't you ever come back.
*
They continue on but Sam doesn’t talk to John beyond tense, one word answers, and he doesn’t ask why. She doesn’t even tell him when she’s leaving. Dean knows, and he stops hitting on girls in bars, no matter what they look like. He doesn’t sleep with her either, just stays in his bed and barely mumbles goodnight when they fall asleep.
*
The day she’s set to leave, she wakes to Dean’s careful gaze just inches from her face. She winces with a short stretch and looks for the clock.
“You really gonna do this?”
She glances for a moment then away, unable to face the depth in his eyes. “I’m not leaving forever.”
“Four years is a long time.”
A small shake of her head and she’s trying to turn away from him. “I’ll be fine.”
He hmms and keeps watching her.
“I’m more worried about you and how you’ll survive without someone telling you to stop eating so much red meat.”
His voice is tight and stern as he ignores her line. “You call the minute there’s trouble, right?”
She snorts. “You gonna come save me, Dean?”
“Sam.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“You never know.”
Another shake of her head. “God, you and Dad.”
They share a long look.
It’s the first time she can truly admit to herself that she’s just as scared about leaving; even if she knows it’s for the best. There’s the unknown of being away from Dean and in a whole different world. “You’ll come save me, right?”
He doesn’t say more than “Sam,” but she knows every tone of his voice.
She rolls into him, arms tight around his waist as he holds her, smoothing hands over her back.
His mouth is at her ear when he soothes, “Always got your back.”